


After School

by thingsiwontadmittohavewritten



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aged-Up Derek, Alternate Universe - High School, Consent never stated, M/M, PWP - freeform, Student Stiles, Teacher Derek, Teacher-Student Relationship, Underage Sex, werewolf Derek (implied)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-22 23:22:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8305264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thingsiwontadmittohavewritten/pseuds/thingsiwontadmittohavewritten
Summary: It’s the first day of school after the long summer, his smart mouth once again getting him into trouble





	

**Author's Note:**

> For a "PWP" this is remarkably porn-free, so the rating is more a "better safe than sorry" bc I can't figure the difference between 'mature' and 'explicit'  
> Usual disclaimers. Constructive critism welcome

The smell of old sweat and mold assault your heightened senses the instance you close the door behind you. Not even the sweet, citrusy smell of the naked boy lying across the vaulting horse can overpower the disgusting smells permeating the air in what is essentially a graveyard for old gym equipment.   
It’s the first day of school after the long summer, more than two months since you’ve last seen him and you ache with the need to touch him, mark him, claim him in ways you haven’t been able to for far too long. But now he’s here, his smart mouth once again getting him into trouble and you having volunteered to oversee his punishment.   
There’s no light in this room so you have to rely on your superior eyesight to take in the pale flesh in front of you, the way his skin pebble in either chill or anticipation - you can never tell and he won’t answer when you ask, no matter how you punish him - the way he’s exposed to anybody who’d stumble in here, could’ve opened the door like you did a minute ago and seen the feast laid out for anyone to enjoy. And yet it’s all for you because who else but the two of you would come here, where smelly gym equipment comes to die and after hours nonetheless, but still the thrill of discovery, of somebody getting to the boy before you could, and without conscious thought you’re buried between his full cheeks, your tongue pushing against his skin before breaching him, savoring the taste of him. He squirms against your face trying to get you deeper, trying to impale himself on you but the way he’s tied to the horse gives him almost no room to move.   
When you’ve had your fill you reach for the box you’ve brought here last week in anticipation of this moment, looking through the content you search for the smallest one you brought, covers it liberally with lube before carefully inserting it. The sigh from the boy’s lips is so quiet even you almost don’t hear it but it has you smiling nevertheless, and then finally you walk around to see him, his lips red and swollen where he’s been biting them to keep from crying out, mouth hanging open in invitation and his large, amber eyes clouded over in pleasure even over the tight lines in his body signaling the need for release that has so far been denied him. You take the invitation, almost brutally thrusting your length inside and down his throat before you slow down in silent apology, letting him get used to your flesh on his tongue while setting a slow and steady rhythm. It’s not long before you can feel the way your body tightens and you flood the moist cavern you’re buried inside, the disappointed noise as you pull away only to aim at the boy’s face, painting his skin in white and then licking you clean while you come down from your high.

  


Parent teacher conferences are the only thing about being a teacher you truly hate, too many parents being convinced that it’s your fault their little prodigies are failing, even when you got evidence the little monsters spend class smoking weed beneath the bleachers instead of being inside learning. And then of course there’s the boy’s father who’s by no means blind to his son’s faults but instead is full of gratitude towards you for the strict discipline you keep and the way the boy seems to flourish under it. The man’s praise makes you blush, only half in shame.

  


He’s reciting Shakespeare as you’re chasing your release, his voice stuttering every time you hit his prostate but never faltering, he keeps going even as you still and pulses inside him, takes a minute to watch your essence dripping from him after you’ve pulled out, then turning him and gracefully sinking to your knees swallow him whole. He keeps going, not wanting you to stop, as you carefully work him over with everything you have, licking; sucking; teasing, makes him fuck your mouth, because this is the last time you’ll see him (you’ve promised yourself this won’t continue next year) and you need every little thing you can get. And the it hits him and yo drink down every drop he spills and when there’s nothing left you turn him back around and clean off your own release, tongue carefully extracting everything from the boy in front of you, and when he hardens again you do it one more time, forcing him to give you all he has, again and again until he’s sobbing from the overstimulation and you have to let him go. 

  


Your resolve doesn’t last and when you bend him over your desk and slams inside it feels like coming home. You can’t live without the boy, feed off of his smell and the sounds he make and right there, for the first time in the years you’ve been doing this do you whisper promises of love and forever in his ear, relishing in the feel as he clenches around you painting the desk in white as you color his insides.


End file.
